


Bride of the Commander

by Summer_Solstice_Girl (Winter_Solstice_Girl)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, BAMF Sherlock, Fluff, M/M, Omega Sherlock, Other, Slow Burn, end result - Johnlock, some elements taken from the Handmaid's Tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:46:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Solstice_Girl/pseuds/Summer_Solstice_Girl
Summary: This fic has been through several versions. It began in 2017 when me and my friend Jane worked on the outline for the world and first chapter. I put it aside and the following year worked on the premise a little more. My beta, Zeema, encouraged me, but again I put it down.This is my third attempt to actually write this! *fingers crossed*Big thanks to my betas Jane_Fairfax and Zeema!!!Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Bride of the Commander

“Shezza! Stop dilly-dallying and come along, dear.”

The child reluctantly pulls his gaze from the small clump of wild roses looking rather forlorn, their tiny pink blossoms tossing about in the wind, struggling to grow among the weeds on the side of the muddy road.

He makes a face as he rushes to catch up with Mrs. Hudson, the breeze ruffling his towhead curls, likewise tumbling them about his fair face.

_Shezza. Bleh._

He hates being called that. Surprising, since it had been a beloved nickname given to him by his doting mother and father.

But it’s not his real name.

His real name is Sherlock. And knowing how his real name is all but forbidden now, frustration through childish anger has translated into a strange loathing for the name.

‘Shezza’ is what he’d blurted out two months ago when the port administrator demanded a name other than his given one, not realizing it was going to be forced on him for the rest of his life.

“Can’t we tell them my name is Sherlock,” he asks sullenly, light blue eyes cast upwards towards the woman.

“I’m afraid not, poppet.” She replies, glancing sympathetically at the omega. Her tone is kind and Sherlock likes her very much, though sometimes her no-nonsense way of things frustrates the boy to no end.

She pauses for a moment to push back the locks of soft curls having fallen in front of the boy’s pale eyes before pulling his red hood back up and over his head. “And Sherlock is more of a girl’s name anyway,” she adds, a playful smile across her face.

She stands back and takes in the eight-year old’s appearance.

Hidden by the too large red cloak and hood he looks completely adorable, what with his plump white cheeks pinkened by the coolness of the air. He has a habit of blinking his topaz blue eyes rapidly, as well as scrunching up his nose, both of which he proceeds to do under her current scrutiny, and it only adds to his youth and cuteness.

A painful surge of protectiveness over the child suddenly tugs at Mrs. Hudson’s heart and she reaches over to pull him close, hugging his tiny frame to her legs.

Part of her is truly thrilled at the prospect of getting to help raise the young omega who has already become quite dear to her, even though she’s only met him a handful of times while he was awaiting auction at the Transfer Center for brides-to-be. Throughout her tenure as housekeeper of Watson Manor and all the previous Commanders’ households she’s worked for before, she’s inspected and picked up several omegas and girls. Yet, never has she encountered one so precocious, independent, headstrong. In fact, most are so devastated by removal from their families they don’t stop sobbing for months, even after replacement.

But Sherlock… He seems years ahead of his peers in terms of cleverness and practicality. Adept at pushing his inner pains deep inside, he refused to let the world see his hurts, but she saw it, saw it quite clearly in those wide set lagoon blue eyes of his, his heartache and sadness. The boy seemed to prefer living in his head with imagination and daydreams, and perhaps that helped. He liked to focus on things he loved: coloring, flowers and plants, all kinds of botany, and basically learning about all the new things in the world around him.

Not to say the boy doesn’t have a proclivity for whining and pouting - oh boy does he ever. A petulant streak like no other child. Like today. She had arranged for a carriage to pick them up and drive them from the Center to Watson Manor, but the headstrong little omega begged and pleaded and all but insisted he be allowed to walk to his new living arrangements. The distance was ridiculously far but Mrs. Husdon conceded a little and told the driver to let them out two miles away. Fresh air and sunshine would do him good, and this way he’d get to know the nearby roads and surroundings right from the start. He’s too young to worry about being a runaway, more like he might get lost.

As adaptable as he is, there’s another part of her that worries how the sensitive, creative and imaginative omega will fair living under Commander Watson’s roof. The elder Alpha runs a dull and dreary household especially now his wife has passed. He’s given to bouts of fury and temper; and he’s well known for his sexual proclivities, namely his dislike of omegas. His young son, who Sherlock is decreed to belong to once he is of age, is friendly and good-natured, but he will be leaving soon for his first mission very soon. There are of course the young brides-to-be. Molly is a sweetheart but the older brides can be quite ruthless.

Will it stifle him? Will it turn him more introverted and inward than he already is?

She holds tight to her hope that the elder Watson will more than likely ignore the boy as he grows and the brides will do the same. No doubt worrying about their own future given Lord Watson’s declining health.

She reflects on the boy, his adorable quirks and traits, and the whirlwind life has been since she learned of Sherlock’s existence.

To think, that had only been two short weeks ago.

She had been on her way to the local market. Word on the street was that Ms. Della had a surplus of some of her finer silks and Mrs. Hudson wanted to make new dresses for some of the brides.

“Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson!”

Turning around she found the perpetually cheerful beta, Mike Stamford, looking red-faced and grinning broadly as caught up to her.

Mike is one of the youngest solicitors in the county, and while not savvy in the courtroom he was especially adept at obtaining intel concerning brides-to-be. He worked for Commander Sholto as a procurer. Typical processing time of omegas and fertile women could take anywhere from one to three months. During which time they are technically supposed to be off-limits. Any talk or spread of information about their existence or health or looks is restricted to outside persons or entities. Only when they are fully processed and interviewed and examined is the advertisement sent to all Commander households. They will then have one week to submit their bid.

To get around these rules, the wealthier Commanders and military Alphas try to get an edge by sending a procurer to learn as many details from Transfer Center employees as they can. Bribery is rampant in these situations, but even then that doesn’t always work. Perhaps Mike’s genial nature gives him an edge over the other procurers, who, though more seasoned, are infinitely more cantankerous and mulish.

“You’re just who I was hoping to see,” he panted. “Lord Sholto - I’ve just spoken to him - and well, he’s confirmed his wish to purchase an omega for Sir John’s graduation. His bid is all but assured to claim the boy, I’ve been told by the director himself. ”

“An omega?” Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Yes, isn’t that tremendous?” He chirped

“Er, tremendous, yes, well, Mike dear. It’s certainly a most generous offer, but Lord Sholto surely hasn't forgotten Lord Watson’s feelings on omegas.”

“Ah, yes. He and I spoke, and certainly it cannot be the case that Sir John shares Lord Watson’s unusual, er, _aversions,_ shall we say.”

Mrs. Hudson sighed deeply and shrugged her shoulders. 

“Here come with me and meet the boy. He’s fresh from France with the prettiest French accent you’ve ever heard.”

They arrived later that afternoon and from all Mike’s talk one would have thought she’d be seeing the prettiest omega bride who ever lived.  
Instead she found a plump tiny child who was in the middle of asking their teacher that he be allowed to go, that he already knew every shade of every color and that her lesson was useless for him.

When Mike introduced them the boy quirked his head to the side so that his large ringlets tumbled over his face. Appraising her.

Then, out of nowhere he said, “My name is Sherlock. I like you.” Then, he took her hand in his tiny one and led her to the far side of the room where he began showing off his drawings. All remarkable for one his age.

Mrs. Hudson smiles to herself as she remembers.

Suddenly, her mind is cast back to the present as she notices Sherlock has slipped from her hold. She glances to and fro, unable to spot him. Her heart beats wildly and she screams out his name.

“Sherlock!”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been through several versions. It began in 2017 when me and my friend Jane worked on the outline for the world and first chapter. I put it aside and the following year worked on the premise a little more. My beta, Zeema, encouraged me, but again I put it down. 
> 
> This is my third attempt to actually write this! *fingers crossed*
> 
> Big thanks to my betas Jane_Fairfax and Zeema!!!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!


End file.
